


Call It What You Want

by SimplyShelbs16



Series: Sherlolly Songfics [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romantic Fluff, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyShelbs16/pseuds/SimplyShelbs16
Summary: A post-TFP one-shot based off of Taylor Swift's 'Call It What You Want.' Molly helps Sherlock through a tough aftermath and ending with a happy request from Sherlock at the end.





	Call It What You Want

**Author's Note:**

> when I first heard Taylor's new single, it screamed Sherlolly! So here we are!
> 
> Listen to the song here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V54CEElTF_U&t=139s

_My castle crumbled overnight. I brought a knife to a gunfight._

                He was falling deeper into himself, unsure of who he really was. Just one night of vivisection and his entire world was turned upside down. Sherlock just kept wandering, eventually stopping somewhere. He was no longer aware of his surroundings. At least not until a soft voice was in his ear.

                “Sherlock? Are you alright? Please answer me, love, you’re scaring me.” He knew it was her; his Molly. Only she wasn’t his and he felt she never would be. It had only been a couple of days since that night at Sherrinford. Mycroft had debriefed Molly on all that had happened, but Sherlock hadn’t yet seen her. Hell, he didn’t even know how he got to her flat.

                “Molly,” his voice broke, retreating from within his mind palace.

                “Come inside,” she told him, taking his hand in hers. “I’ll make you a warm cuppa and we can talk…or not talk. Whatever you need.” He followed her inside and Molly slipped his coat and scarf off, hanging them up on her coat rack. She went to the kitchen to prepare tea for the two of them whilst he settled down on the sofa. Before he knew it, she was sitting beside him and he gingerly took the cup she offered.

                “Thank you,” he told her. It was silent for a bit and Molly ran her fingertips up and down his back, comforting him. “It’s a mess; a disaster.”

                “What is?” she asked.

                “My mind palace,” he answered. “It’s jumbled and facts are mixed with fiction. I don’t know what memories are real anymore. I don’t even know who I am.”

                “I know who you are,” Molly told him. “I’ve always known. Contrary to the façade you created, you’re the most emotional, sentimental man I know. You went through a traumatic event as a child and told yourself a better story, keeping a mask over yourself so you wouldn’t get hurt again. You can be abrasive and stubborn but you’re also very kind and loving. You love pirates and solving mysteries and science experiments. I adore your curiosity and brilliant mind. I know you don’t just solve crimes for the thrill of it. You like to help people as well.”

                “That’s how you see me?” Sherlock asked, surprised at her words. “I’m not just a tragic junkie looking for a fix by solving crimes?”

                “No, you’re so much more than that, Sherlock,” she replied. “You’ve only used drugs to cope with situations that hurt you because you always felt alone. I’m here, sitting in front of you, and I’m telling you that you have never been alone and you never will be. I am always here for you, no matter what. I will be for you what you need me to be; friend, family, pathologist.”

                “Are those the only choices?” he questioned. “You are all of those for me already, Molly.”

                “What else do you need?” she asked.

                “I need you to know that I meant it,” Sherlock told her, setting his tea aside and taking her hands in his. “I love you, Molly Hooper. I think some part of me knew that I’ve loved you for a very long time. I am truly sorry for not being brave enough to give my heart to you completely. You deserve to be loved, darling, and I hope you’ll give me another chance to be the man you need.”

                “Oh, Sherlock,” Molly spoke softly, her right hand coming up to caress his face. She smiled when he automatically leaned into her touch. “You deserve to be loved too. You’re already the man I need; the man I knew you could become. And I’m so proud of you, my love. You’ve come such a long way.” And that was when she felt his lips press against hers. His hand traveled into her hair, cradling the back of her head. _Maybe_ , he thought _, it’s all going to be okay after all_.

 

_Nobody’s heard from me for months. I’m doing better than I ever was._

                Sherlock had taken a break from solving crimes. The only people who knew how he was doing were his parents, Mycroft, John, and Molly. He hadn’t made the papers in a couple of months, nor had he gone to Lestrade for cases. Every now and then, he’d solve the miniscule things that clients would email him about, but that was all he felt he could handle.

                Though Molly had thoroughly proven that she always knew who he was, it still took him some time to figure it out for himself. Sherlock was happy to know that she was right. He realized that he was all of those things she said he was. Her words echoed in his mind from when he told her about his breakthrough two days ago.

                _“See? You are a wonderful man, Sherlock. A little broken? Yes. But who isn’t?”_

_“Are you broken?” he asked._

_“A little,” she answered. “But it only reminds me of how much I have endured; how strong I am.”_

                He had to admit, he was doing better than ever. Sherlock decided for himself to go back to rehab, never wanting to touch another substance again, nor did he want to do anything that would cut his time short with those he loved. He and Molly would often watch Rosie, taking her out to the park and getting ice cream. His family was healing, and so was he, as they consistently visited Eurus who seemed to be making progress. Much to his chagrin, Molly had gone with them to visit, per her insistence, and that was the day Eurus began to speak again.

 

_I’m laughing with my lover, making forts under covers. Yeah, you know I did one thing right._

                “Sherlock!!” Molly giggled, practically screeching his name. He had found all of her most ticklish spots whilst they were cuddling after an intimately tender session of lovemaking. She loved how sweet and affectionate he was with her. It was revealed to her just how much he couldn’t keep himself from kissing her. He loved it and she did too. She loved his habit of resting his head upon her breasts; not in a sexual way, but in a way that comforted both of them.

                Currently, they were beneath the covers almost as if they were in a fort and she could hardly breathe from his fingers trailing over her sides, tickling her. Molly felt him let up, realizing that she needed a break from laughing so hard, and he switched to pressing his lips to the base of her neck, slowly leaving a trail upwards. He stopped before reaching her lips and she playfully whimpered when he moved away, instead kissing her cheek.

                “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” he asked her softly, his fingers brushing her hair behind her ear.

                “Remind me,” she replied.

                “Mm, I love you more than anything,” he whispered, his lips pressing to her forehead, eyelids and the tip of her nose. Molly let out a small gasp as he finally snogged her. Sherlock moaned as he tilted his head to kiss her more deeply. He felt her fingers card through his curls, the sensation making him shiver. The tip of her tongue continually pushed against his, tasting him and nuzzling her nose against his own. When their lips broke away, Molly noticed a flash of doubt cross his face.

                “What is it, darling?” she asked, caressing his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone.

                “Do you ever regret choosing me?” Sherlock’s voice trembled.

                “No,” Molly answered immediately. “Never. I may have made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I know I did one thing right…choosing you. If I had the choice to do everything over, I’d still choose you every single time.” He leaned into her affectionately, holding onto her for dear life. His lips pursed at her neck firmly. It was the slowest kiss he had ever bestowed upon her. “I love you, Sherlock. I always will.”

                “Love you too, Molly,” he murmured against her skin. “It’s always been true.” Hearing her own words from the phone call echoed back to her caused a swelling of love in her heart. She gently stroked his curls until he fell into a deep sleep.

 

_I want to wear his initial on a chain ‘round my neck, not because he owns me, but cause he really knows me._

                Molly was concentrating on the corpse in front of her as she performed the autopsy. Sherlock watched her work with fascination in his eyes. He wasn’t observing her handiwork, but rather admiring her as the woman who matters most to him. He did notice, however, a pendant that peeked out from her lab coat when she leaned over. It was an initial ‘S.’

                Of course, Sherlock found it to be strange, because normally, you were supposed to wear your initial. He easily deduced that the ‘S’ was for Sherlock. Why she bought a necklace with his initial, he did not know. It wasn’t until her lunch break that he asked. They both sat in her office taking bites of each other’s food, happily talking about the latest case he was on.

                “Molly?” he asked.

                “Hm?” she responded, a forkful of salad in her mouth.

                “Why aren’t you wearing your own initial on your necklace?” he questioned. Molly swallowed her food before answering.

                “Oh, that?” she blushed, suddenly embarrassed. “It’s just a stupid sentimental thing.” She waved him off with her hand like he had done so many times before.

                “Sentiment isn’t stupid,” he replied. Molly felt herself nearly choke at his words. “I know I used to think that way, but I was wrong.” His words left her feeling less embarrassed over his observation.

                “I don’t know, really. I guess I just wear it to have some part of you with me when you’re not around,” Molly admitted. “You’re the only person who really understands me, and well, you’re my best friend.” Sherlock’s heart ached in a good way at her words, not only because it showed just how much she loved him, but because he felt exactly the same about her. “I’m so lucky that you’re my boyfriend too.” His nose wrinkled at the term. “Or partner or companion or whatever, call it what you want.”

                “How about I call you my wife?” he asked. The fork dropped out of her hands and into the plastic container of her food.

                “Only if I can call you my husband,” she teased.

                “Well then, let’s see what Mycroft can do to help make you Mrs. Holmes as soon as possible,” Sherlock smiled. “Oh!” He dug around inside of his Belstaff pocket and pulled out an antique ring, sliding it onto her finger where it would stay for the rest of her life.

                  


End file.
